Page 24

“You can feel it, can’t you?” he murmurs. “Your body knows me. The way it listens to me. Even now. Even after you’ve heard your friends being ripped apart.”

He’s lying. Just messing with me. I don’t accept this… It can’t be true.

I want to tear off his mask and spit in his face. Kick him in the balls. Yank the knife out of his hand and make him bleed.

But I’m paralyzed. Trapped. My legs are jelly. My brain is static. The terror and the grief are too much to bear, and I shut it all down.

He traces the tip of the blade around my hard peak, teasing. The sensation is shocking, and I’m disgusted that my body reacts to the caress. My breath hitches. My back arches. A traitorous throb between my legs, a choked-down moan in my throat.

He watches intently, breathing harder now. “Look at you,” he purrs, dragging the knife across my chest to my other nipple. “You little slut.”

His hand shifts just a bit lower before he cuts.

A tiny slash. Shallow, but sharp, on my ribcage just below my breasts. The pain makes me yelp. The blood wells up, a thin line of red like a ribbon unraveling.

The knife glides down my stomach like a whisper, cold and deliberate, following the blood.

I feel every inch of its path—over my belly button to the zipper of my jean shorts, the metal teeth catching for a second before the blade trails lower, grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

My breath hitches as it traces down to my knee, then back up, slipping under the cuff of my shorts.

With a sharp twist of his wrist, there’s a sudden yank, and a rip.

The denim splits beneath the blade, the sound too loud in the eerie quiet of the woods.

“No, don’t do this!” I beg as horror shots through my body, and with all the strength I have in me, I shove him off me.

He barely even shifts back. All it seems to do is to amuse him. He drops the camera, catching my wrists in his one hand, and he pins my arms to the tree above my head, restraining me.

“Don’t make it harder on yourself, Princess,” he whispers as he grabs the flapping panel of fabric with his free hand and tugs hard. The zipper gives, the button pops off with a ping, and then my ruined shorts are tossed aside, leaving me in nothing but lace.

The knife presses between my legs, the tip teasing over the delicate lace of my panties. I feel the cool metal drag down my slit, so light it’s almost cruel—then nothing.

A sharp thunk makes me flinch. The blade sinks into the tree at an angle, the handle jutting out just between my trembling thighs, mere inches from my exposed pussy. His gloved fist tightens on the torn lace, ripping it further, together with my tights, until I’m completely bare.

Then, I feel the smooth leather of his glove against my skin. And God help me, it feels so good. His fingers part my lips with a slow, deliberate stroke, and I gasp.

“There we go,” he says, almost fondly, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Mmmm, there’s the truth. This is mine. You don’t get to say no to me…”

I sob harder.

His touch is maddening—spreading my slickness, tracing lazy circles around my swollen clit before dipping lower, slipping inside me with no warning.

A pathetic whimper escapes my lips, and I can’t do anything but feel him, his long, leather-clad fingers curling just right, stealing my breath.

“Feel that? The way your cunt clenches when I touch you?” he asks, but he’s not looking for an answer. “That’s not fear, little bunny. That’s need .”

Go fuck yourself! I scream at him in my head.

But my body… Oh, my body is loving every goddamn second. I grind down on his hand like an animal in heat, chasing the forbidden sensations I shouldn’t even be feeling right now.

What did he do to me?

“Fuck yes,” he rasps. “That greedy little pussy is so sensitive, isn’t it? Always so wet for me… so easy to please… I’m the only one who can make you feel this way. Your body knows it’s Master.”

He pulls out suddenly, and before I can protest, his palm slaps against me—once, twice, three times—each strike landing directly on my clit, sending sharp bursts of pleasure-pain through me. My hips jerk, my thighs quiver, and I’m right there, teetering on the edge…

His hand is gone. “No, I didn’t say you could cum.”

He lifts his fingers to my lips, and my tongue flicks out to collect my juices before he even asks me to. My taste is laced with the leather of his gloves, and I can’t get enough.

“You’re going to have to work for it.”

Then his boot kicks my legs wider apart, and as my body shifts down, the smooth handle of the knife presses right against my entrance.

“Go ahead, show me how you ride it,” he commands.

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

His grip tightens on my chin, fingers digging into my jaw hard enough to bruise. “Don’t defy me unless you want that knife in your ass instead.”

He’s serious. No doubt about it. And he terrifies me.

I do what I need to do to survive—I obey.

Lowering myself onto the handle is slow torture as the thick, unforgiving polished wood stretches me, filling me in a way that shouldn’t feel this good. But it does. My hips move on their own, rocking against the tree, the bark rough against my already scraped back.

He steps back, picks up a camera, and records it all while his free hand flies to the zipper of his jeans.

I watch, mesmerized, as he pulls out his cock—hard, thick, pierced—and my movements turn frantic.

My hands cup my breasts, fingers pinching my aching nipples between them, as choked moans escape my parted lips.

I don’t know what it is, but I have never been more horny in my entire life.

I feel ashamed, guilty, and entirely repulsed by myself, but even that doesn’t stop my hunger.

He strokes himself slowly, still filming my every move as the camera pans between my legs, lingering. “Mmmm, Bunny… look at you. So desperate, fucking yourself on a knife in the woods like the filthy little whore that you are.”

I moan, my hips bucking harder, the handle sliding in and out with slick, filthy sounds. God, I can feel it building inside me again, that tight coil of pleasure winding tighter, and tighter…

“Oh, you’re close?” he taunts in that low, condescending tone that drives me crazy. “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whimper despite myself, hating that he has this power over me. Even now. Even after everything.

“No, you don’t deserve that.”

Then his hand fists in my hair, yanking me off the handle and down onto my knees. His cock is right in front of my face, all nine inches, glistening, demanding.

“Convince me,” he orders. “Make me cum first, and maybe I’ll allow your pleasure.”

I hesitate.

Ghost tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him—at that blank fucking mask, those dark, endless eye slits. Then he taps the tip of his cock against my lips, the metal hoop cool against them as he smears the precum across the seam of my mouth.

“Open.”

I do because I fear what he may do if I don’t listen. Not that I even have a choice to begin with.

The moment my lips part, he thrusts in. Deep . Ghost groans, low and satisfied. “Fuck, Bunny!”

I choke, my hands flying to his muscular thighs as his cock pushes past my lips. The barbell piercings slowly drag along my tongue, teasing me with the unspoken promise of how they would feel somewhere else.

My inner walls clench.

“You look beautiful like this. On your knees with my cock in you mouth,” he praises and my stomach flutters.

Tears sting my eyes as he presses deeper, deeper—until I have no choice but to breathe through my nose. My throat spasms. My nails dig into his jeans.

He chuckles darkly, zooming in on my face again. “You can take it, Princess.”

He pulls back just enough to let me suck in a breath before thrusting back in, slower, meaner. My chest heaves as I muffle around him, fresh tears spilling down my face.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice much softer now, which surprises me. “Let me in.”

I try—I really do. I try to focus, try to breathe through my nose, but he’s so thick, so heavy, every inch of him forcing its way in. I’m drooling around him, saliva dripping down my chin, my jaw aching from the stretch.

His hips roll slowly as he thrusts, pressing his cock right to the back of my throat. I whimper, then gag, but he doesn’t let up. Instead, he tilts his head, watching me struggle. Loving it.

“Messy girl.”

He pulls out completely, just listening to my gasps, then he slaps his cock against my tongue with a filthy wet sounds.

“Do better,” he orders. “Show me how sorry you are for all that you did to me. For thinking you could get away with it.”

His fist tightens in my hair, yanking me down on his shaft. Slowly opening up my throat again, he forces me to take him even farther.

Tears blur my vision. My lungs burn. But there’s something in me that wants to please him.

“Eyes on me, Bunny,” he commands.

I blink up at him, dazed, and I’m met with the camera lens.

His cock twitches. “Beautiful. That’s it,” he grunts, pulling back just slightly. “Now suck Daddy’s cock, baby.”

I do as told. My tongue swirls around the piercings as my lips seal tightly around his girth and I suck him deep.

He tosses his head back, and his deep, raspy moan echoes through the woods. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, and my mouth starts working around him as my head bobs up and down.

“Mmmm, good girl. My perfect little cocksucker.”

I don’t even realize when my hips start moving, but suddenly, I’m helplessly grinding my aching pussy against his boot.

The hard leather presses perfectly against my stiff clit tingling with need.

Moaning around his throbbing shaft, I feel my orgasm building again, and my movements grow faster as I rut away, pursuing that wonderful friction.

He tsks. “Greedy.” And he pulls his foot away, leaving me empty and denied. “You wanted to tease me all these months,” he rasps. “Now you don’t get to decide what I give you.”

Then Ghost’s hips snap forward, and I gag hard, my body jerking. He grunts, satisfied, fucking my throat until his breathing turns ragged.

Something moves in the trees.

A low rustling. A shadow shifting. A low whisper.

My stomach lurches. My pulse pounds. And my hands try to push back against his thighs, but Ghost doesn’t budge.

“Keep your mouth busy.” His voice is a low hiss, dark and commanding. His fingers tighten in my hair, keeping me locked in place as he picks up the pace. He’s relentless. The sounds coming from me are obscene—wet, choked, desperate.

I can’t breathe, can’t think.

The woods groan around us.

Another distant whisper.

A snap of a branch.

I try to pull back again, but his grip is iron-tight. I make a panicked noise, as fear crawls up my spine, but he’s in control.

He won’t let me go.

The corner of my eye catches more movement, and I hear more whispers, low and guttural, echoing around us. They sound real. Too real.

And there’s this gut-wrenching sense of being watched .

I panic, my nails digging into Ghost’s thighs like needles, my body tensing. He notices, but he doesn’t care. He yanks my hair harder, tilting my head, and deep throats me in fast, long strokes. My head gets fuzzy at the edges, but then his cock swells, growing even harder, and I hear his whimper.

“Fuck, baby! Oh, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum…”

He groans, thrusting one final time, shuddering hard as he spills down my throat. Hot. Thick. Unrelenting.

My throat works around his pulsing length as I struggle to swallow, and some spills down the corner of my mouth. Ghost watches, speechless, his breath shaky. I blink up at him, my tongue swirling around the swollen head of his cock, collecting the last drops from the tip.

“Goddamn, Bunny,” he exhales, finally pulling out.

I gasp for air, my chest heaving, my body trembling, but I take advantage of his momentary orgasmic haze.

I try my luck.

My fingers reach back to the knife handle left embedded in the tree.

It’s still slick with my juices, slippery, but before I can even get a proper grip, he yanks me down onto my stomach.

The camera rolls on the ground after he drops it again, still recording.

His weight pins me to the dirt as he completely overpowers me, mounting the back of my thighs and yanking my arms back in his grip.

I never stood a chance.

“What did I tell you?” His voice is a growl, his breath hot against my ear. “You disobey me—you get punished. Did you think I was fucking around?”

The knife’s handle presses against my asshole, and I scream in shock. My whole body locks up, muscles clenching against the intrusion.

Ghost laughs. “Never been fucked here before, have you?”

I shake my head violently, clawing at the soil, trying to get away—which is pointless, of course. His tongue last night was the most experimenting I ever did, and he fucking knows it.

“We need to work on opening you up,” he murmurs, and I feel his thumb replacing the knife. The leather teases my tight opening in slow, deliberate circles. “I need all your holes to serve me… To serve us.”

Us?

I freeze.

His grip on my wrists loosens as he shifts his hand up my spine, then twirls it around his forearm.

“You see, little bunny,” he begins, tugging at my hair to lift my face. My eyes lock on the figures emerging from the tree shadows. “I always share with my brothers.”