Page 10 of Flesh & Divinity

“Yes,” she pants. “Make me come again. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Gus crouches beside us and wraps his hand around her throat, tilting her face toward him while we move beneath and behind her. Her chest flushes crimson. Her eyes glaze.

“Look at you taking their cocks,” he murmurs. “You crave this.”

The sound that escapes her is strangled and honest, and she hates herself for it. I can see it in the way shame and pleasure war across her face, neither one winning.

I want her to feel ashamed and used. She fucking deserves it.

My release builds with vicious speed. I reach down and pinch her clit and she screams—shock, anguish and ecstasy all at once. When the orgasm hits her, I follow without mercy, spilling into her with everything I have.

Marking her as ours.

Jaq takes four more thrusts. Then three more before he stops moving entirely and just holds himself there, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure before he finally stills.

Gus releases her throat. She gasps, a long, desperate drag of air. Her face is flushed a deep red, her whole body still rolling with aftershocks.

I look at her. The bruises from our grip. The dirt. The ruined, wrecked look of her.

And then I push her off me.

She hits the ground with a grunt.

Once the three of us are dressed we stand over her in silence. She has her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on them. The shame in her eyes is the closest thing to satisfaction I've felt in years.

I crouch down until I'm level with her face.

“Look at the great Cinder Charming, utterly ravished and used like a whore. Welcome to your hell, Cinder Soot.”

“Who are you?” she grits out through clenched teeth.

“One of your owners.” The word sits in the air between us like a boulder. “Every part of you is ours whenever we want it. Defy us and I will tie you to the back of the carriage and drag you around this island so every prisoner here knows exactly what happens to our property when it doesn't obey.”

Horror crosses her face. I release the chain on her collar, then stand and walk back toward the cabin without another word.

She won't run. The collar will see to that as she can’t pass the post without being shocked.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CINDER

I can’t sleep, it’s too cold and I can’t stop shivering.

The moment the three of them disappeared inside, I made a run for it. I thought I could escape and get the fuck out of here, but the moment I passed those stakes in the ground, powerful shocks rolled through my body that had me screaming and dropping to the ground. The instant I crawled back past the posts, it stopped. I lay there for a long time, writhing in pain until I gathered myself up and returned to the fucking field behind the cabin.

I’m hungry and even resorted to trying to eat a raw pumpkin I found. I’m sore, and every move I make I feel the ghost of them inside me. Blood is dried to my inner thighs.

It’s a brand of shame. I allowed three masked strangers to defile my body and I can’t even say I wasn’t willing. I may not have begged for it but I wanted it nonetheless.

I hear a twig snap and crouch down lower in the field. I’m naked and alone in a pumpkin patch on an island with no form of protection. The odds are not in my favor of surviving this night.

“Psssst,” someone calls, but I don’t dare move for fear it's a trap. I remain still and unmoving. “I know you’re there.” I sit up at the sound of the woman’s whispered voice. I scan the area but see no one except for the two field mice in front of me. I know I’m scared and starving, but not even I am that out of my mind to believe the mice are talking to me. “Over here.” I follow the sound of the voice, squint my eyes, and try to find her, but with the moon as my only light, it’s hard.

I gasp when I spot her. Her brown hair is a wild mess, matted and standing in different directions. She’s covered in filth and grime. She crawls on all fours toward me like an animal. I tense and look around for something to defend myself, but find nothing. I’ll have to rely on my fighting skills if she tries to attack me. She comes to a stop mere feet away and the stench that wafts from her is gag inducing. I choke on a breath and force myself to breathe through my mouth, or I risk hurling up what little contents I have in my stomach.

Now that she’s closer, I take in the sight of her. She’s wearing rags that are hanging on by a thread. Her eyes suck me in, looking almost violet in this lighting. Beneath the filth, I can see she is young and… beautiful.

“Your name,” she whispers. She keeps darting her gaze around, and doesn’t relax, ready to run at a moment's notice, which has me wondering, how long has she been here?