Page 10 of Fed By Fear

“Shut up.” I shove Madness onto the rotting wood floor.

Gator leans back against a butcher’s block, twirling a serrated knife between the fingers of his right hand. He must have known we were coming. I can scent the anger beneath his weathered pig mask.

“Why did they turn the lights on?”

“Because clown boy here showed a human the face he saves for the dark.”

Madness cackles. Gator stands up straight. The cackling ceases as he cowers in my hold.

“Idiot.” Gator slams the knife he’s holding into a wooden butcher’s table. “I’ve barely gotten started. You’ll ruin this whole thing.”

“We know. Fuck.” Madness squirms. “We’re overwhelmed today. That last group got us so hard.”

Hard indeed. His cock is straining against those ridiculous polka-dot clown pants.

Gator clocks the erection then slips his gaze to me.“What should we do with him?”

“I don’t want to reward him for his stupidity.”

“It was an accident,” Madness whines.

“Shut up.” I rub my temple through the fabric of my mask. “He doesn’t deserve it, but if we want him to make it through the night…”

Gator’s gaze flicks to the front of Madness’s pants. “You or me?”

“I’m too pissed. I might rip it off.”

Madness flinches, fighting to stand upright. Gator’s hands are on him before he can shriek. A half cackle, half scream pours out of him as he’s slammed face down on the chopping block.

“You don’t deserve this.” Gator peels his bloodied gloves off. One of his hands presses into the back of Madness’s neck. The other snakes beneath his waistband. “You’re fucking weak, Madness.”

I know the moment Gator grips Madness’s dick because the clown nearly rips from his skin.

My jeans grow taut as I watch the movements beneath the table. Gator doesn’t start slow; he jerks Madness backand forth, not being gentle in the least as he pleasures him.

Not that he needs to be. We all have a thing for pain.

Arousal cuts through my fury. Watching is more of Gator’s thing, but I can’t deny the appeal. We’ve been together hundreds of times, the three of us. Knowing each other’s wants and needs is second-nature.

“You’re a weak fucking demon,” Gator repeats.

Madness moans, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. The hot-pink polish on his fingertips clashes with his coffee skin. Neon pink and green dominate his mask and ensemble. As if the clown face and pants weren’t enough, he’s got a bright green harness tightly buckled across his muscular chest. He’s always so over the top with his choices.

“Can’t even hold it together one night. You’re pathetic. Worthless. A fucking cockroach.”

Madness bucks, his mewling growing louder. That damn clown loves to be degraded, and Gator always knows just what to say to get beneath our skin.

“Pants all the way off,” I interject.

He drops Madness’s pants to his ankles, giving me a full view of his weeping, fat cock squeezed between Gator’s tatted knuckles.

Gator never lets up, stroking him with a ferocity that must be close to bruising. “I bet you can’t even come. Too pathetic to get it done. They’ll turn the lights back off and you still won’t be able to finish.”

Madness is thrusting now, his hips slamming into the edge of the table as he forces his length into Gator’s tight fist.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you.” Gator slows his hand.

The desperate, feral noise Madness makes has my cock jumping beneath my jeans.