Page 23 of Decimation

Her words drip like poison into my ears and I want to claw them out, to silence her, to silence everything, but I can’t. I’m trapped, paralyzed as she takes what she wants from me. Her hand moves faster, her touch relentless and I feel the pressure building inside me, a sickening mix of pleasure and shame that I can’t control.

And then it happens. I feel myself spilling over the edge, and I’m overwhelmed by a wave of shame and disgust so intense it threatens to consume me. My body betrays me completely, and I hate myself for it. I hate her for it.

Ines leans down, her lips wrapping around me and I want to scream, to thrash, to do anything to make her stop, but I can’t. I’m trapped in this haze, this nightmare, and there’s no escape. She sucks me until I’m spent, until there’s nothing left, and then she pulls away with a satisfied smile on her face. She lets it dribble down her lips, down onto her breasts and starts rubbing herself with it, her eyes locked on mine.

I want to vomit. I want to claw my way out of this bed, out of this room, out of this life. But all I can do is lie here as she takes what she wants from me.

She scoops some cum up and shoves it inside herself, moaning softly as she does. I want to scream, to thrash, to do anything to stop her, but I can’t. I’m trapped in this haze, this nightmare, and there’s no escape.

Konstantine appears at the doorway, a smirk on his face. “You two still having fun?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement.

She smiles and gets up off the bed, walking over to him. “Lazarus is a great distraction when you’re busy,” she says, her voice playful.

He smirks, glancing over at me. “I agree.” He says before grabbing her by the neck, pushing her against the wall and fucking her in some show of dominance.

She yelps and gasps, and all I can hear is the sound of their flesh slapping against one another.

“Let me keep him.” She gasps.

“Why? Is my cock not enough?” He growls in a tone that sounds almost teasing.

She lets out a moan before she plunges her tongue into his mouth. “I need a pet. Something to keep me busy.” She whines. “Let me keep him as that. I deserve it, don’t I?”

Konstantine turns to look at me again, and he grins more. “It will keep him out of my hair.” He states. “And stop him sticking his nose in things he has no business to be in.”

Paitlyn. This is about her. It has to be.

Ines squeals like a child that’s just been granted a new puppy. Konstantine continues fucking her and after he comes she hops over to me, straddling my face and she puts her disgusting cunt right over me so that I’m practically suffocating.

“Lick,” She commands. “Lick it all up like a good fucking pet would.”

I hear Konstantine’s laugh as he moves nearer but there’s nothing I can do, no way to get away from them.

“Lick.” Ines commands again.

And then I feel the jab of something sharp, something hot and painful poking into my ribs and fingers yanking on my hair, digging into my scalp.

“Lick,” My brother barks. “Lick my wife’s cunt. Lick it clean.”

Fuck, I hate them. I hate them both.

The room he moved me to is little more than a cell. White walls. Sterile light. A machine in the centre that looks like something pulled from a nightmare, all chrome and leather restraints and mechanical precision.

I’ve been strapped to it for hours now. Every second stretches out, measured by the relentless rhythm of the thing between my legs.

Isaac stands by the window, backlit by afternoon sun that turns him into a silhouette. He’s been there the whole time, watching. Always fucking watching. His aura, usually a murky brown, swirls sluggishly around him like stagnant water. It’s a colour I’ve come to associate with his cold, clinical detachment. But when the machine whirs to life and I gasp, his aura shifts, just slightly into a darker, muddier hue, tinged with streaks of sickly yellow.

I know what that means. He’s aroused.

Disgust coils in my stomach, sharp and acidic.

I don’t know where Ezekiel is. He left the same night he ruined me, and he hasn’t been back since. I know Isaac keeps him abreast of my training, I know he sends him reports. I don’t want to think what they contain, what awful things he writes about me, about my progress.

The machine whirs to life again as I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, and the now familiar taste of my blood peppers my tongue. The dildo, because that’s what it is, slides into me with mechanical efficiency.

There is no warmth.

No humanity.