Page 84 of Horror and Chill

“That’s it,” I say softly. “Take it.”

She glares, then drags her tongue along the side anyway, syrup smearing her chin. I press it deeper until the handle grazes her teeth. “Suck.”

Her cheeks hollow, mouth wrapping around plastic. My cock throbs at the sight.

Corwin chuckles low from behind me. Garron doesn’t make a sound, just watches. I ignore them both. She’s mine at this moment.

I pull the pickaxe free, her lips smeared crimson. “Beautiful,” I murmur, then press the fake blade back to her mouth. She takes it again, biting down just enough for me to feel the resistance.

By the time I set the prop aside, her lips are glossy with fake blood. My jeans are already unbuttoned, the zipper sliding downslowly. When they hit the floor, my cock bounces heavy against my stomach, aching.

Her gasp cuts the silence, sharp and needy. I grip her chin, tilt her face up, and let her see everything in my eyes. “Now that you’re already wet.”

I fist my cock at the base and press the head against her bloody lips, waiting. She scowls but parts her mouth, and I slide in, slow, savoring the heat that wraps around me.

Her tongue swirls greedily along the shaft, and I groan low, pushing deeper until the back of her throat catches me. She swallows, and I go further, burying myself until my balls tap her forehead. Her gag tightens around me, her throat clenching like it was made for this.

I pull back only to surge forward again. She hangs there, head tipped over the edge of the slab, letting me use her, and it lights something in me that I never want to put out. She is mine. Ours. To use, to claim, to protect.

She doesn’t know it yet, but this just seals the deal that she was made for us. We’ll let her go back to her normal life after this weekend. If only to prove to her that she wants us. I know her better than she thinks, and I know she’ll be craving us, missing us.

I sneakily hold the pickaxe out to Corwin, and he takes it without question. If I could see his face, I'd bet every dollar in my account that he’s smirking like the devil.

Her throat works around me, every swallow a jolt up my spine. I keep her there until her eyes water, then ease out just enough to let her drag in a ragged breath before I sink deep again.

Corwin doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. The blunt end of the handle presses between her thighs, right where she’s soaked. She jerks hard, a muffled cry spilling past her raw lips. Her hips fight it, but she’s already grinding, already caught in the heat.

Even gagged on my cock, her throat works around me, chin tipped high. Fear and want knot together in every ragged swallow.

“Relax,” I murmur.

Her body betrays her, thighs quaking, already spreading wider for more. I watch her chin dig into my abs. She must hate that her thighs are trembling, already opening wider for more.

I wink down at her, calm as ever. “Truth, Little Horror. Do you want it?”

I pull back, just enough to give her room. She jerks her chin in a frantic nod, spit slicking her lips. That’s all the answer I need.

“Look at her,” Corwin growls through the mask, voice muffled but thick with hunger. He pumps it once, slow, then again, harder, until her thighs quake and she’s fighting herself not to grind against it.

I keep her head tipped back over the edge, my cock gliding over her mouth, smearing her lips red with spit and syrup. “Open for me,” I murmur, thumb sliding over her chin, tugging her jaw down. She gasps, lips stretched and wet, and I push just enough of me back inside to hear that sweet gagging sound.

Her hips roll despite her fury. Her thighs open wider, betraying her. The slap of plastic against wetness echoes in the crypt, filthy. Corwin laughs, each thrust of the handle matched to the rhythm of her ragged breath.

“You like that, Little Horror?” he taunts. “Say it.”

She tries to choke it back, chest heaving, but the moan tears free anyway.

“Admit it,” I growl. “You like being filled by us. Even like this.”

Corwin’s pace quickens, the handle plunging deeper, each thrust wet and obscene. Her cries rip through the crypt, no longer muffled, no longer controlled.

“Listen to her,” Corwin growls. “Little Horror’s dripping for it.”

Her thighs clamp and shake, slick running down the handle, shining in the lantern light. I drag my thumb along her jaw, owning every tremor. “Don’t hide from it,” I murmur. “Not here. Not now.”

She gasps around my cock, gagging as I push deeper, her throat fighting me and losing. And then, her whole body locks, a shudder tearing through her as she breaks apart on the handle.

She convulses, cunt clenching so hard the pickaxe jerks in Corwin’s grip. Her mouth floods with heat as I spill down her throat, the sound of her choking on it only dragging her higher.