Текст книги "Fable of happiness book two"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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He stilled, familiar temper swirling behind dark eyes. “I care.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay, then, I’m fine. Completely and utterly over the moon that I’m chained to a man who has no intention of letting me go. A man who makes it perfectly clear he can take me whenever he damn well wants.”

“I won’t touch you. Not today.” He caught my livid stare. “I told you, there are more important things.” A twisted chuckle spilled through his lips as he glanced down at his straining erection, trapped inside his jeans. “I won’t lie and say I can barely focus with the pain of needing you, but my head also fucking hurts, and I’m doing my best to do the right thing.”

“Why?”

He spread his hands as if even he didn’t fully understand. “If we focus on survival now, it means I get to keep you for far longer.” He stood taller and sniffed. “If I give in to what I want, then we both die. Miserably and sooner than I’d like.”

“The longer you keep me alive, the greater the chance you’ll die when I take you up on your offer of freedom.”

His stare went vacant for a second, zoning out to a blackness I couldn’t see. Then he shook his head and shrugged. “The longer I keep you alive, the greater the chance I have of being happy...even if it’s for a short while.”

My mouth fell open.

I wanted to scream.

Was this his new method of torture?

His honesty dug claws into my stupid heart.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” His face was urgent and intelligent. “I’m telling the truth that firewood is almost as vital as food.” No signs of deceit or danger in his voice as he inched closer. “Drinking snow works, but I’d rather not have to carry bowlfuls through Fables if I can help it. I don’t know how long it’ll be until I’m back at full strength. Plus, there are a few odds and ends to do with getting the house weathertight. Then, of course, I have the important task of figuring out what to do with our food shortage.”

He genuinely needed me to understand how his existence worked because it was my existence now too.

“I need your help, but I’m also going to teach you. You need to understand the consequences of your actions out here. You need to respect—”

“Respect you?” I stiffened, feeling judged for being naïve and using his supplies. I hadn’t deliberately sabotaged his rations, yet he hadn’t been able to forgive me.

“Respect that no one will save you if you fuck up,” he muttered. “You’re on your own.”

That final sentence reeked of his loneliness of the past decade. He’d learned that lesson firsthand. My heart lurched then shut down. My stomach fluttered with pitiful butterflies, then shot them with harsh common sense.

Stepping back, I struggled to keep my anger. I fought to remain remote and furious, but I wasn’t lying about the exhaustion. Keeping that level of hatred required an eternal fire of fury, and somehow, Kas kept pouring damn water on it.

Seeing him like this? Animated about mundane things, forecasting and planning, it all revealed a part of him that was free from all the awfulness he’d lived through. When he talked about agriculture and seasons, he wasn’t the boy who’d been raped and molested. He wasn’t the man who couldn’t face those memories.

He was normal.

He was calm and free from the demons that haunted him.

I sighed, my eyes dropping to my ankle and the leather trapping me. My back snapped straight, a constant seesaw of what he’d done and who he was, the light and the dark, the right and the wrong.

I can’t keep doing this...

“Wait here,” he suddenly muttered, marching from the games room with a slight sway.

Where on earth—

The chain pinged and slithered behind him, dragged by the matching leather beneath his T-shirt.

Naturally, I did the opposite and followed, chasing the chain, slowing as he ducked to his haunches and fumbled with the pile of links pooled in the middle of the foyer.

What is he doing...?

My heart dared skip a beat. Maybe he was exhausted too. Maybe keeping me prisoner was eating him alive, and he’d decided to free me, after all.

The ironic thing was, in that one action, he’d gain my help. My willing help. I would do whatever he asked to ensure he’d survive alone before scurrying up that cliff and going home. He would redeem himself. He could prove I wasn’t crazy with my bewildered, broken heart.

The softest sound of metal on metal echoed in the grand marble-veined foyer before he stood and tucked something into his pocket. As he came back toward me, his balance was ever so slightly off when he once again ducked to my ankle and undid the chain from the leather cuff.

Oh, my God!

He did it.

He released—

With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the chain back into place. This time, the links were far shorter than the long leash that’d given us both freedom within the massive mansion. This time, only a few feet existed between us. A tether that gave no privacy, no protection.

My fury swirled around me, heating my skin and making tears prickle behind my eyes.

I couldn’t speak to him.

I couldn’t even look at him.

So when his finger once again tipped my chin up, directing my eyes to his, I wanted to strangle him like he’d strangled me. I needed him to know just how much this hurt me. How much he punched my soul, over and over again.

“I can’t let you go. I won’t let you go. All I can offer is my word that whatever I do to you from now on will only bring pleasure. When I take you, you’ll enjoy it. When I ask you to do something, you’ll learn from it. You’ll see life isn’t so bad here...with me.”

Dropping his touch from my chin, he ran his fingers down my arm, all the way to my hand still clutching the knife. A useless, hopeless knife that I doubted I’d ever have the courage to stab him with.

Clasping his hand around mine, he brought my arm up. His touch made me burn. His hitched breath hinted he burned in the same pyre. The foyer crackled with demented flames. I shook as he brought my hand all the way up to his chest, then angled the knife until the sharp tip pressed against the small scab I’d left there a week ago from the very same blade.

And we stood there.

Silently.

Swaying.

Shivering.

“You’re going to work hard, Gemma Ashford. I expect you to pull your weight. To obey me, learn from me, and do what I ask. The moment we go outside together, we aren’t strangers; we’re partners. Do you hear me?” He put pressure on my hand, puncturing the old wound over his heart and drawing a droplet of crimson. “If you think there’s any chance in hell that you can kill me to get free, I suggest you do it now. I’ve lined up the knife. You only have to push. Do it now because I refuse to work my ass off for the next few months only for you to end it. My head hurts. I feel sick all the damn time. All I want to do is rest. And if that’s eternal rest thanks to you putting me out of my misery, then so be it.” His eyes blazed, brown and black, autumn and coal. “Choose.”

Familiar animosity and coldness marked his face, and his hand trembled around mine. His closeness made it hard to breathe while his violent honesty ripped out the final shred of my shattered soul.

For a long moment, we stood in those demented flames. We burned together. We stared and searched and cursed the chain binding us.

Not the one around my ankle and his belly. Not the one made of metal.

A different kind of chain.

One that could never be broken, no matter if I went home or stayed, no matter if he lived or died. A chain made up of two hearts that had no business joining. A link that doomed us forever.

I started to cry.

Silent, slow tears.

He sucked in a breath as my fingers tightened around the knife.

My life flashed before my eyes.

The reunion with my brother. The coffee with my mother. The hugs from my friends. The fan mail from my YouTube followers.

All of it.

There, ready for me to take.

All I had to do was push.

A savage push into a broken man’s heart, and I could be free of all of this.

More tears fell as I looked at the knife. My shoulder tightened, and my stomach coiled for power.

And suddenly...I was done.

All my anger.

My rage.

My fury.

It all just...vanished.

Tiredness swamped me; unhappiness churned my heart.

I cried harder, quiet and wretched.

He was right.

I didn’t have the strength. I had no more energy to hate. After a week of going over every swear word and threat I could imagine, I was too exhausted to even try.

My fingers opened beneath his.

He let me go.

The blade fell to the marble, bouncing high before clattering to a stop by our feet.

For an agonizing heartbeat, I cowered beneath my failures, my weaknesses, and the fact that I’d once again given up my freedom. And then, my tears were wiped away by rough thumbs, my cheeks cupped with shaking palms.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I didn’t reply.

I let my tears fall because they were symbols of my past. This was a funeral, and my freedom was firmly locked in a coffin I would never open. I would mourn it. He would let me mourn it because once upon a time, he’d had his freedom stolen too.

He didn’t rush me. He didn’t touch me other than to wipe away my tears. And only once they dried up did he shift away and clear his throat. His eyes burned with ownership but also understanding. He was my master now, yet he knew what it was like to be me. To have all control stripped away and be at his mercy in all things.

I didn’t think he’d abuse that power.

Not now.

Not after this.

“I’ll look after you as long as you look after me,” he murmured. It could’ve been romantically sweet, yet it sounded like a death sentence.

We stood in that truce, knowing this was the moment everything changed. I didn’t know what that change would bring, but we were no longer separate. Our survival hinged on each other—the most intimate of all relationships.

Sniffing back my final sadness, I looked up and caught his stare.

I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t afraid. I was just me. A girl who’d achieved the impossible and become financially free thanks to scaling problems people deemed unachievable.

This was just another problem. A challenge to be conquered.

I can do this.

“Tell me,” I said, calm and collected, standing as regally as I could muster. “Tell me what we need to do.”

We.

That one tiny word.

It hovered between us on a parachute, dancing on the fire between us.

He noticed.

He snatched it from the sky and hugged it close.

The faintest glow of relief filled his eyes as he nodded. The animosity between us was still there but muted beneath a common goal. “We work side by side to survive.”

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

I WAS DEFINITELY SCHIZOPHRENIC.

How else could I describe the switches inside my head? The painful evolution of who I’d been for so long, followed by the agonizing regression back into the darkness I was born in.

For the past seven days, I’d become a stranger to myself.

I’d had far too much time to contemplate and analyze. I hadn’t turned to cleaning or reading even though my idle hands craved to be busy. Any and all activities hurt my head and sent my balance spinning. I also had no strength to garden or prepare, and I’d promised Gemma a week to acclimatize, so she was off-limits.

I could’ve gone to her, but it wasn’t just her who needed space.

I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

One morning, I was the man I’d always known. I was cold and dark and had a fortress of bricks blocking my mind from memories I had no desire to face. But by afternoon, I was someone else entirely. I was calm and light with a petrifying contentment just knowing I wasn’t alone. Knowing there was another soul in this place, breathing, eating, existing.

I’d think of her and the urge to do something nice would overwhelm me. I’d dream of her and the craving to have her bowing at my feet would make me hard.

Both sides of me wanted control over her. The only problem was one side wanted to force that control while the other understood if she gave it to me willingly it would taste so much sweeter than stealing it.

Those sorts of thoughts terrified me.

They kept me awake at night until my concussed brain flickered out, sending me unconscious wherever I happened to be sitting. For a week, I stewed in my thoughts, slowly becoming less and less familiar with who I was. Who I wanted to be.

I had no distractions to throw myself into. All my usual crutches, all the tricks I used to keep my mental walls in place were no longer an option, and the forced self-reflection led me to one horrifying conclusion.

I’m mentally damaged.

I was sure Gemma already knew this. If I was stupid enough to go to her and tell her my revelation, she’d laugh in my face and ask why it’d taken so long for me to see.

But maybe that was the point.

If you were mentally damaged, how could you know you were mentally damaged unless someone else brought it to your attention?

What sort of checklist did you have to complete to finally figure out what was wrong with you?

Because things are wrong with me. Too many things to count.

In the hours where my eyes weren’t too fuzzy and my head didn’t ache too much, I’d skim the medical books in the library. I’d search for an explanation why, ever since Gemma’s arrival, I’d been slowly losing grip on my reality.

One book said schizophrenia was an imbalance of brain chemistry that distorted real events, created fictitious happenings, and generally fucked up the person diagnosed. Without medical and long-term care, they were a danger and menace to society.

Could that be why I lived out here on my own? Perhaps Storymaker and the guests never actually existed? Could I have made all of that up?

Those questions scared me shitless because if that was true, it meant my Fable family wasn’t real. It erased the only happiness I’d ever gleaned thanks to short, stolen moments of togetherness. Nyx and Wes, Jareth and Elise were all just fragments of my fractured mind.

But then my gaze would land on my scars and trigger a flash of someone’s cock being thrust into me or some woman’s mouth trailing down my belly, and I’d stop breathing.

That sort of filth could only have come from experience.

My mind might be sick but not that sick.

I glanced at the woman walking by my side. Her feet encased in boots, her legs bare and flashing beneath her skirt, soaking up the heat from the bright sunshine. Her blond hair was threaded with precious golds and coppers, glinting as her head ducked, and her hazel eyes followed the hop of a lazy grasshopper.

The sensation of her every footstep resonated around my waist thanks to the shorter chain binding us. She walked beside me as if we were equals, yet the soft plink of metal was a constant reminder she wouldn’t willingly walk beside me if given a choice.

And fuck, if that didn’t hurt.

Can you blame her?

I swallowed a growl. I might not be able to blame her for not wanting anything to do with me, but I could blame her for every other problem she’d caused. Life would be so much simpler if she’d just stayed the hell away. If I’d never been forced into this painful soul search and unwanted evolution.

Tipping her head to the sun, she lengthened her neck with grace and power, making my already hard cock twitch. She had shadows under her eyes, revealing her exhaustion from the past seven days.

Good.

I was glad she was tired because I felt the same way. Even after everything I’d endured, I couldn’t remember a time I felt more exhausted, more drained. I couldn’t accept that some days I woke and for the full hours I was aware, I didn’t recognize a single piece of me. I didn’t want to accept that I suffered from a medical condition without a cure.

She sighed and scanned the valley, drinking in the river in front of us and the swaying grass that was past time for a harvest. She looked so grounded, so centered in who she was, what she believed in, and what morals to follow.

At that moment, I stupidly thought she could help. She could cure me of whatever illness I—

Fuck, no way.

If I showed her a shred of how truly messed up I was, she wouldn’t fix me like I needed her to but merely use it to her advantage. She’d already taken care of me, repairing my body after she’d pushed me off the cliff. She’d shown me kindness, and in return, I’d cursed her. I’d trapped her, making promises that ensured she’d die here with me as her only company.

Why the hell would she try to help fix any other part of me after that?

I strode faster, forcing my legs to stay stable and upright. At least the buzzing in my ears had faded, and my eyes were more reliable today, even in the bright sunshine. Tiny increments of progress, just not fast enough for my liking.

She had no choice but to speed up with me, her ankle tugging on the leather cuff as the distance grew too far between us. With a huff, she jogged toward me, then wrapped her arms around herself as she matched my pace.

My hands clutched around the two snares I’d brought with us. Traps I’d designed and crafted to catch smaller game. I should’ve started trapping a few weeks ago, using the sun to dry the strips of meat so it lasted the long winter. I no longer had salt to preserve with, and smoking took time and firewood. I’d freeze a lot of the meat, but if our electricity supply was intermittent, we could risk losing everything that way.

“Stop,” I muttered, ducking down to ram the stake into the summer-hardened ground and open the door on the small cage. Setting the mechanism, ready to snap closed when something entered, I withdrew a handful of lettuce leaves from my jeans pocket and scattered them in the back. They were wilted and damaged but would still entice a range of wildlife.

Standing, I sucked in a breath and fought the urge to reach for her for balance. The valley swayed, and the roar of the river turned excruciatingly loud for a second before I swallowed down my nausea and locked my knees for stability.

Her gaze danced with questions. I would happily answer whatever she wanted to know—after all, she needed to learn this stuff. And really, I needed her to talk to me—about anything at this point. I needed to know I was still me even if she’d systemically destroyed me every hour she was in my godforsaken life.

However, she bit her cheek, shook her head once, and stepped away, waiting with her back to me until I joined her, and we fell into a silent walk again.

As we drew closer to the river, I set the second trap, placing it along the natural tracks of prey. Once again, she watched my every move but didn’t give me a single word. If she knew how hard her stare made me, she probably wouldn’t even do that. Could she guess that her eyes felt like a physical touch? That my blood grew hot, and my heart pounded quick, and my cock...well, that’d been fucking aching for days.

Pushing upright, I tripped sideways. I braced to crash but instinct had her reaching for me, grabbing my unbroken arm and yanking me to her. I tripped the other way, falling into her delicious curves, planting my hands onto her hips with possessive control.

We froze.

Everything went quiet.

The hunger inside me turned to shaky starvation.

My head lowered, my tongue licked my lips, my brain fogged with a single purpose...to kiss her. To kiss her stupid so she kissed me back and I could take her in the dirt like before. I’d promised I wouldn’t fuck her today, but she’d touched me first. She was the reason we were breathing hard, flushed and wanting with so much unspoken shit between us.

I grazed her nose with mine.

She flinched and pushed me, upsetting my balance again and stepping out of my grasp. “Next time, I’ll just let you fall.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Just like you let me fall off the cliff?”

She sniffed. “I refuse to repeat that conversation.”

“And I refuse to let you continue giving me the silent treatment.” I pinched the bridge of my nose before dropping my hand. “I told you I don’t like it. If I wanted silence again, I’d just have disposed of you when I had the chance.”

“Hah!” She smiled nastily. “And what chance was that? The one when you tried to strangle me the first time? Or was it the second? Oh wait, no, it was the third time, wasn’t it? The time you ran after me and pinned me into the mud?” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “But wait, that time you kissed me instead. You chose to make love to me instead of kill—”

“I didn’t make love to you.” I stood straight, temper crackling down my spine. “I fucked—”

“Yes, yes, you taught me a lesson by fucking me senseless.” She waved her hand. “Consider me terrified.”

“I—”

Goddammit, this woman.

I opened and closed my mouth, not quite sure what to volley with. My temples pounded, and I struggled to keep track of what we were arguing about. Wait, was this even an argument? I was confused and horny and dangerously close to just grabbing her and doing whatever I wanted. I wanted her ever since latching that cuff around her ankle. I’d wanted her every fucking second or every fucking day, and the fact I hadn’t taken her yet confounded me. I was no stranger to forced sexual contact. It was easy to get others to grant whatever twisted pleasure you were in the mood for. I should know. I’d been summoned far too many times to count. Yet for some idiotic reason, the longer I kept her—choosing to care for her like any good owner would his pet—the harder I found it to take her.

Probably because, no matter her denial, I’d never actually forced her. That time by her car had been entirely fucking mutual. And the second time in her car...shit, that’d been hot as hell, devastatingly erotic, and Christ, I needed back inside her.

Running both hands through my hair, I scowled. “What’s your point? I’m assuming you have a point? Or did you just feel like being a bitch for no reason?”

Her hands balled at my slur, but she kept her chin high and voice clipped. “My point, oh incredible master, is just like I don’t seem to have the power to kill you, you do not have the power to kill me.” She marched into me, stabbing my T-shirt with her finger. “Ergo, we are both doomed to live with threats and ultimatums but both too stupidly weak to do anything about them.”

“Speak for yourself.”

She snorted. “Okay, fine. Good luck proving me wrong.” Stomping off, she only got a few feet before the chain around her ankle yanked on the one around my waist, making us both grunt with discomfort.

Swallowing back rapidly unfurling anger, I stalked to her side. “I’m glad you’re so full of energy. That’s going to be convenient for the next task.”

She scowled. “What task?”

“That.” I pointed toward the river with its crystal water. Parts of the blue waterway followed sedately with barely a ripple, while just before the calm pool, rapids danced and bounced over rocks. Those rapids were responsible for eighty percent of all electricity power at Fables, and whatever had damaged the hydro plant needed to be fixed well before ice arrived.

Luckily, the rapids were the last part of the river to freeze, normally waiting until early spring to turn solid completely, meaning the solar panels could pick up the slack as sunlight hours increased. However, during the dead of winter, every kilojoule generated by this river was valued and sorely needed.

“Come.” Tugging the leash around my waist, I gave her no choice but to follow me to the water’s edge. She came grudgingly, her body tense and lips pursed in frustration. My heart chose that moment to skip a stupid beat as the memory of her in the foyer slammed into me. “Tell me what we need to do.”

We.

In that second, she’d accepted that there was a we. That whatever separate paths we’d been on were now unarguably threaded into one.

That memory vanished as quickly as it’d arrived, dumping me back by the river.

And fuck me, I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there or why.

For a terrifying second, I glanced around at a foreign land, and I didn’t have a goddamn clue who I was, where I was, or what I was supposed to be doing.

Oh, God.

Clammy sweat drenched me.

I sucked in a shallow breath.

Panic flowed swift, only to screech to a halt as my mind suddenly flooded with answers.

My valley. My river. Me.

Gemma.

I spun to look behind me, my heart unwilling to beat in fear that she’d been a mirage this whole time. That I’d made up the past few weeks. That I didn’t have anyone to call my own.

But she was there.

Watching me warily, her forehead pinched and teeth chewing on her bottom lip. “What? What happened?” She balled her hands as if she didn’t want to ask but felt like it was her duty after nursing me through the worst. “Are you...are you okay?”

Was I okay?

I don’t know.

What just happened?

I was used to my mind being riddled with barricades and embargos so memories couldn’t suck me down, but I’d never been so vacant before. Never forgot the fundamental pieces of my life.

It’s over.

You’re fine.

Don’t let her know.

Grunting, I cocked one shoulder as arrogantly as I could. “Of course, I’m okay. It’s a beautiful day and I’m with a beautiful girl.”

“Beautiful prisoner, don’t you mean?” she muttered.

“Beautiful regardless of ugliness between us.”

She sucked in a breath.

I didn’t like how I felt...tight and hot and needy. And I definitely didn’t like the words that’d spilled uncontrolled out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say such things. I hadn’t meant to have a blackout while still awake. I hadn’t meant to be this screwed up, fucked up, and totally floundering for help.

“Get naked,” I snapped. With our eyes locked, I reached behind my neck for my T-shirt and yanked it over my head. “Now.”

Her eyes trailed over my chest despite her annoyance. “Is this a striptease? Do you expect me to swoon at your feet?”

I smiled thinly, unbuttoning my jeans and shoving the zipper down. “You saying my body could drive you to swoon?” I kicked away the denim and, in the same move, shoved my black boxer briefs down my legs to join them on the pile.

She choked as her eyes fell on my naked cock. My very hard, very eager cock. “So this is where you plan to force me—”

“I told you, I have more important things to worry about.” Of course, if she showed a minuscule amount of interest in having me, I’d pounce on her and have her on her knees before she’d even said my name. The name she still hadn’t earned the right to use.

Do you want me like I want you, Gem?

I paused, searching her face for any sign that, beneath her exhausted fury, she was as wet as I was hard. The moment stretched, then ended. I nodded with disappointment, slowly growing black inside.

How long would I let her deny me? How soon would I snap and take her anyway? How would I cope knowing she’d hate me even more when I finally did? Did she think living with me came for free? She was only alive because I found her irresistibly attractive, conveniently arriving at a time when my body was making my life a living hell.

She’d been the pawn in which to bypass all the dirty shit inside my head. She could touch me; I could not. She could make me climax; I would never give myself that pleasure.

That was all I wanted from her, regardless of all the messy new thoughts and strangeness inside me. The moment my heart got in the way of my orgasms, then we had a whole other disaster to deal with.

“Undress,” I barked.

She bared her teeth. “No.”

“Fine.” I was in too much pain for another argument. Heading straight to the river, I waded in and exhaled heavily. God, it’d been too long since my last swim. The water never failed to calm me, clean me, and give me a sense of clarity from the tar inside my mind.

“Hey, wait!” She scrambled along the shore, hopping toward the edge as I waded deeper, the chain pulling her with me.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay fully dressed.” I ducked under, letting the world go quiet as water lapped around me. It blocked the buzzing in my ears, and it ran through my dirty hair. It fondled my cock, mimicking Gemma’s wetness without the heat.

A splash sounded beside me, the ripples of displacement rocking me beneath the surface. I kicked off the bottom and popped back up, blinking away droplets as my gaze latched onto a drowned girl.

A hazel-eyed, golden-haired, entirely vexing and insanely beautiful girl.

“You bastard.” She splashed and shoved hair from her face, her beigey shirt billowing around her. “You could’ve said something.”

“I told you to undress.”

“I thought you wanted—”

“I want to fix the hydro generator.” I arched my chin at the large manmade structure in the middle of the rapids. A concrete box that’d been built by whoever Storymaker had enlisted to create Fables. “It ferries the current through smaller channels, pouring over a turbine that constantly turns, generating friction which causes electricity.”

She glowered. “God, you annoy me. All of you. Every single piece of you drives me up the wall. Just so we’re clear.” She huffed, her fingers flying to the delicate buttons of her shirt. She undid one, then two, then three.

My mouth suddenly went very, very dry.

I couldn’t look away, not even if an asteroid chose that moment to smash us into dust. I would be happy dust. Dust with a hard-on for the stunning, infuriating girl currently tugging off her soaking wet shirt, leaving her in a tight teal sports bra.

Her eyes glowed with green and shadow as she threw the wet shirt toward the shore, deliberately slapping it onto my dry clothes.

I narrowed my eyes. “Witch.”

“You deserved it.” With a quick inhale, she ducked beneath the surface. Her hair continued to float on the surface as her curves beneath the waterline twisted and contorted, yanking off soaking boots and pulling her skirt over her head.

I shuddered as a wave of debilitating lust shot down my legs.

My hand strayed to my thigh. My cock pulsed for touch. It would be so, so easy to come. A single stroke. One delicious pump.

“Stuart!” Ms. Blain yelled. “Get in here.”

The door opened, depositing Storymaker directly into my current nightmare. I was bound and cuffed to a wooden cross. Ankles spread, arms wide, my neck chained in place so I couldn’t move. I was merely a thing to be ridden. To be taken against my wishes. To be molested however Ms. Blain decided.

This was her favorite game. To tie me up and torment me for hours. The awful thing was, she wasn’t even supposed to be my guest. I’d begged to be her plaything the night Zanik couldn’t stop vomiting in fear when he saw her name on the registration book. He was normally stoic and quiet. The one who helped me keep the others calm. But seeing him like that? Watching him flinch each time the door opened and Storymaker summoned a new Fable slave to serve, broke my damn heart.