Page 56 of The Way We Rot
I wanted my emotions at bay. Anger, rage, and yeah, fucking grief. But it bubbled, hot and visible.
She tried to shout something after me as I turned and marched away, muffled and teasing, but her mouth was full. Small mercies needed to be reveled in.
It was a dangerous climb up narrow ladders to reach the rafters of the theater, but I’d had to rig it this way to account for her size. She was no dainty marionette to be manipulated by a short ladder behind a curtain.
I glanced down, finding her still in that awkward position, and tried fucking hard to let that be satisfying enough. But it never would be. Cranking the music back up using my phone, connected to a Bluetooth speaker hidden near her on the stage, I began adjusting her body again.
This setup didn’t allow for me to manipulate her like I wanted, like a real marionette master, but it was still getting my point across.
It pissed me off a little, wanting that grace, that strange fluidity that came from years of practice. I remembered Jake and me watching, wondering how they made it all look so perfect. Penny was jerky as I moved her, rough and ugly. Only what she deserved, I supposed.
Moving the ropes, I forced her back into her sitting position, then brought her knees up as far as they would go, almost under her chin. Then I spread them. Cranking the ropes, pulling and tugging as I workedher body to how I wanted. She was quiet now. Or, the music was drowning out anything that might spill from her. It was nice, to not hear her teasing and chiding at me. Getting under my skin.
From this angle, raised so high above her, I couldn’t see what was between her legs, couldn’t see her flesh all pink and exposed to the air. She was quite the sight. She would look so exquisite from that audience seating, strung up, open, trapped.
I watched her from above, hoping she would feel my gaze, understand the gravity of what was coming her way. This was elaborate, extreme and fucking crazy, but it was for Jake. A show for him, a presentation to him in his afterlife, and for all those other men. All watching, clapping, knowing she was unable to ruin anyone else’s life.
There were no telltale signs of the tool falling from her mouth, though the music was loud. I think it was still between her teeth. Maybe her eyes were her limit. All those cries for more pain, all that laughter when I hurt her. Maybe we had found her edge.
My cock made no move to soften as I watched her. It had been rock hard the entire damn time she’d beennaked and swinging, and I’d left it, even when I tasted her blood and pussy juice on my fingers, I didn’t touch my dick. It begged for friction, to shove into her tight hot body, but somehow, I thought that would bring her satisfaction I didn’t want her to have.
She was pretty, fucked up like this, bent out of shape and panting. And now that she couldn’t shout out, couldn’t taunt me, she was even prettier. I let the pleasure at what I’d been able to achieve already wash over me, and stroked at my skin, stepping away from the ropes after tying them snug. She wasn’t going anywhere.
I squeezed my dick over my pants, the damn thing threatening to burst through the zipper if I didn’t handle it. So I did, without giving Penelope the dignity of touch before she was wrecked, I pulled my cock free and began jerking off at the sight of her.
She was just there, unaware of what I was doing well above her – my cock was stone hard, throbbing as I ran my hand up and down, but it was too dry, not enough pre-cum to make it a smooth ride.
I spat on my palm and got back to it, groaning at the slickness. Fuck yes. Just a few short, rough strokes later, my orgasm crashed into me.
Grunting, I aimed my cock downward, a spray of white cum raining over Penelope.
I watched her for a second as I worked to catch my breath, smirking as I gave my cock a shake. She was humiliated down there and she didn’t even know why.
Still holding my cock, another idea came to me. Another humiliation. Would save me a trip, anyway. Any degradation I could rain down on the bitch, I would take it. Run with it. Relish it.
“Shit,” I moaned as I began pissing, my still half hard cock fighting the urge for a second before releasing the fluid in a gush.
The music was too loud for me to hear her reaction, but I saw her jerk, try to twist and look up as my piss poured down over her. Fucking bitch, she was no better than a urinal, a disgrace to the world.
I kept going until every drop was splattered below, most missing her skin, in puddles beneath her instead, but some in her hair, on her back. It was a damn satisfying image, and a vicious smirk spread across my face.
As I went to shove my cock away and zip up, my phone vibrated in my pocket, snapping me back to reality. A world existed outside of this place. “Shit,” I swore, turning the music off. Let her wonder why as she soaked in my piss. If I’d ever clean her off.
“Hello?” I answered the warden, tense about what he might be able to say. Did he know what I’d done? Was my ruse over? My brain was whirring to catch up, to remind myself that I wasn’t in a bubble here, that my actions had real world consequences and I couldn’t control them all. They would more than likely figure it out, and I would be in a shitload of trouble.
“Adrian,” Warden Domingo said, not calling me officer or corporal or any pleasantries, his tone biting, tired. “What you did, leaving in the middle of the riot, how fucking dare you?”
“I had a family emergency.”
“And we had a prison-wide one!” Domingo yelled, his voice straining. “I’ve been trying to contact you for hours, you fuck—” He sucked in a deep breath. “We need you to come back in. Now.”
I sighed, playing my A-game. “No, Warden, I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I told you. Family emergency.”I did my best to seem beat up, exhausted. My mother was unwell after all. A family emergency in the middle of a work one, and I’d made my choice.
He muttered something to someone away from the phone before returning to me. “We’ve got the inmates under control, all locked back in their cells, but… well, we don’t have them all. We need all hands on deck here, even assholes that might very well be about to lose their jobs.”
“Who’s missing?” I asked, pushing that sense of urgency, pacing the floor so my breathing was a little more ragged.
He sighed, like he was going to say something else but bit it back. “Penelope Karner.”
