Inherited Malice: A Dark Secret Society Romance

Because that glass dildo the old lady had brought in the invitation box for tonight?

It was not small.

And as chill as I’d been to the real Abilene about how I could breeze through these Trials, when I’d gotten the tea from as many people who would spill, I was repeatedly warned with shudders and averted eyes that what went on at the Oleander was not for the faint of heart.

I hadn’t survived this long in the world by being an idiot. And these rich dicks didn’t pick girls from the wrong sides of the tracks for no reason. No, the rich picked the poor to play with because they knew we didn’t have the resources to fight back against being exploited. They could fuck us, fuck with us, torment and play their demented games with us, leave us broken and then move on to greener pastures with no repercussions.

It was the way of the world.

Well guess what?

Sometimes the fucked would fuck you back.

When I was a kid, I’d been powerless. Not anymore.

I grabbed the glass dildo by the balls—literally, the thing had giant glass balls attached—and turned around. Beau had been checking out my ass after all, but I bit back my satisfaction as I held on to the dildo.

“I’m ready to get fucked,” I said cheekily, lifting the dildo up as if in a toast. “How about you?”

Well, these perverts really knew how to throw a shindig. I had to give them that.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs and arrived in the white ballroom, it was transformed. Mirrors had been set up everywhere—they were mounted on the walls, hung from the ceiling, on stands interspersed throughout the room.

As we came in, a procession of naked women walked in like temple girls for an ancient sex cult. I recognized a few of them. They’d been at the Initiation with me. I guess if you didn’t make the cut, you were still invited back to be a sex toy? They walked in, heads down, subservient like sex slaves.

Like me, they all held giant glass dildos in hand.

All around, the men in robes perked up. Some of them reached underneath their robes and started stroking their dicks. Some pulled them out, unabashedly fluffing themselves.

One of the men in silver robes banged his cane on the floor and stepped forward front and center. “We are here to perform the ancient ritual of tempting the Devil to this room so we might capture and trap him by his own vanity in these mirrors. To do so we must give him the most tempting meal. We must provide the darkest, most sinful debauchery. Give in to every lustful impulse. Hold nothing back.”

Then he turned to the women. “Give your bodies as sacrifice to your masters. Do all that they tell you or leave this room at once. Do you understand?”

The women all nodded obediently.

Then the Elder turned and looked at me, eyes skewering. “Do you understand? Will you give your body completely to the one who will master you?”

My eyes leapt to Beau. He hadn’t seemed to be paying that much attention before now, but at the Elder’s question, he snapped to attention. He reached out and firmly took my chin, drawing my head down in a nod.

Then he answered for me. “My belle will obey me completely.”

I was both offended and turned on. Dammit. I wanted to bite the hand he still had on my jaw, especially when he dragged it down my throat and rubbed his thick thumb across my lips.

He released my throat as the women around me dispersed throughout the room, Elders flowing around the room as legs spread and women began to pleasure themselves with the dildos.

I leaned up on my tiptoes toward Beau’s ear. “Guess I better get to tempting the Devil, then.”

His face didn’t let anything on as to what he was thinking as I dropped down to a bench that was closest to me, lounging back, my eyes still on him as I let my legs drop open.

I’d shaved down there, too, so I knew I was silky and bare. I had a pretty pussy. I was a woman who well knew every asset at her disposal, and I wasn’t unaware of my beauty. I’d always had a love-hate relationship with my body. While it was awkward and gangly as an adolescent, I’d finally grown into it in late puberty.

Some women in my business whored themselves out to live the lifestyles of the rich and famous. That had never been my gig. Tina thought I should try it. She said we could go live in Ibiza if I could just hook the right guy. At five-foot-four, she was always envious of my long legs. I was five-nine and had only grown into some curves finally at nineteen. I’d always worn my hair short growing up, and it was nice not to be mistaken as a boy all the time.