Page 36

The sound of tearing flesh. The crack of bone.

The wet, slurping snarls as we dig into what’s left of Mark.

I twist my hand into his sunken chest, past cartilage, past bone, past everything that makes him human until I feel it.

I wrap my fingers around his heart and rip it out with ease, consuming his whole being.

And he’s forever with me now.

Forever part of us.

I step back and take a slow breath, letting the chaos fade behind me as I lay my eyes back on her.

My Bunny—my perfect, ruined little bunny—left on the ground in the pool of blood.

And she looks so fucking beautiful, passed out from being fucked half to death.

Her muscles are trembling, her delicate frame marked with bruises and bite marks—my favorite kind of artwork.

Her breathing is shallow, weak, but she’s very much alive.

I scoop her into my arms, her body almost weightless. Her head falls against my shoulder as I carry her into her cage, laying her down on the mattress. She’s in and out of consciousness, lost in whatever darkness I’ve dragged her into.

She doesn’t stir, just whimpers softly as her body settles against the cushioning.

Behind me, my brothers are still lost in their feeding frenzy, tearing into what’s left of Mark’s carcass.

I should have joined in the madness with them.

I normally would. But something twists inside me, sharp and unwelcome as I look at this fallen angel before me.

Fuck.

I know it’s not guilt—I’m incapable of feeling that.

Perhaps it’s Nate’s stupid need to coddle her, whispering in the back of my skull.

Or Dev’s nagging voice, bitching at me for being too rough.

Or maybe it’s Mark’s pathetic worship of her, lingering like a ghost. Whatever it is, it doesn’t belong.

I grit my teeth, exhaling hard through my nose..

She whimpers, curling slightly into herself, and that thing inside me twists harder.

“Fuck this,” I mutter, but I’m already moving, stepping out of the cage, then walking outside

The night air is thick with the scent of copper and pine.

The water drum sits behind the cabin, filled fresh from the creek every morning.

I grab the bucket, dunk it in, letting the cool water rush over my fingers.

I also take a fresh rag and Bunny’s favorite vanilla and coconut scented body wash—because, of course, I remember—before stalking back inside.

Bunny hasn’t moved. Her lashes flutter as I kneel beside her and tilt her head up, pressing the cup to her lips. “Drink.”

She does, weak little swallows, water spilling down her chin as a soft moan escapes her raw throat. I wipe it away with my thumb, catching the stray droplets before they disappear between her breasts.

Then I start cleaning her face, and she doesn’t fight me.

Good girl. She needs her strength to recover quickly.

I soak the rag, squeeze it out, then drag it down her neck, over her collarbones, her breasts, the curve of her stomach. It’s cool against her feverish skin, and the water must feel like heaven as I rub the tension from her sore muscles.

I take my time, washing every inch of her wrecked body—every cut, every bruise, every mark we left on her.

The blood comes away in streaks, revealing pale skin beneath.

She shivers when I swipe over her swollen nipples, her pussy—still dripping with cum—and finally, the tight clench of her ass as I pull out the plug and clean her there, too, thorough, making sure she’s fresh and spotless again.

I even clean her hair, working the gunk from the strands. She lets out this soft, sleepy noise—almost a purr—as I massage her scalp, her body finally relaxing under my hands. It’s… nice . Too nice.

“Thank you,” she whispers, so faint I almost miss it.

Something in me snaps.

I drop the rag, my hands tightening on her hips hard enough to leave fresh bruises. I hate that she still gets to me like this. That after everything, her gratitude still fucking matters.

No more tenderness. No more weakness.

Abruptly, I stand, pushing the bucket aside. Water sloshes over the cage floor as I yank the door shut behind me, locking her in for the night.

The others are done feeding, grinning at me knowingly, like they see the cracks. But all I can focus on is her quiet yet steady heartbeat. My own adjusting, beating in the same rhythm.

And I hate that most of all.

Before I know it, I kick off my boots and hurdle out the door.

My bones snap, the denim of my jeans rips, and even the leather gloves give way ay as my limbs expand.

I run through the night, run to get away, to clear my head, but the voices are still there.

I swear I hear Kendra’s annoying whine as she’s lecturing me.

Even worse, Bunny’s sweet scent still clings to me. There’s no escaping her.

I growl in frustration, the sound traveling, transitioning into a high-pitched whistle that echoes off the mountains.

When I return, the morning sun already bleeds through the cabin windows, illuminating the carnage left behind on the floor. My brothers stir, groaning as they stretch before they leave for the hunt, leaving me alone with her.

Perfect.

Bunny sleeps peacefully, her naked body a canvas of our shared obsession.

She will learn to love her cage. To crave the hands that hold her down.

To beg for the pain like a trembling little thing, desperate to please.

Because she was made to be ours. We’ll rip the defiance out of her with our teeth and claws, fuck obedience into her bones, and tear her apart piece by piece until she forgets what it was like to be anything else.

The sight of her makes my cock twitch—on her belly, with one knee bent, legs spread, and the soft curve of her ass still marked by claws and spanks.

My hands burn to touch her, but I move into the dungeon first. I only grab Shibari ropes off the wall and don’t care that I have no clothes on, not even the mask.

She doesn’t wake as I unlatch the cage door, doesn’t even flinch when I kneel behind her. My fingers trace the map of welts and bruises on her skin, ropes coiled neatly in my other hand. She looks so innocent like this, so fragile. It’s almost too easy.

Her pussy is still swollen, lips puffy, glistening faintly in the light. Red. Tender. Used. I drag my fingers down the curve of her spine, tracing the dip of her lower back, and lower still, her ass flushed and warm under my palm.

She’s so fucking perfect like this, sprawled and vulnerable, her breath slow and even. And she’s so deep in exhaustion that she doesn’t wake, not even when I gather her pink hair in my fist and pull it to the side, exposing the delicate slope of her neck.

I take my time selecting the first length of the rope, running the red, silk-rough hemp between my fingers before I twist her arms behind her back, tying the first knot snug against her wrists. She sighs in her sleep, a soft, broken sound that makes my cock ache.

The ropes come alive under my hands, weaving around her in intricate patterns—cinching her elbows, framing her shoulders, pulling her chest forward until her tits press into the mattress.

I adjust her knees, spreading her wider, lifting her ass higher.

Every knot is a promise. Every tug is a claim of my possession.

By the time I’m done, she’s a work of art.

Bound. Exposed. Completely at my mercy. Looking like a dream spun out of my dirtiest fantasies—innocent on the surface, corrupted just for me underneath.

The ropes frame her perfectly, accentuating every curve, every line of her body.

She’s my masterpiece, my creation. And she’s all mine.

My cock is already fully awake and throbbing, impatient. I stroke it slowly as I admire her. The way the ropes dig into her skin, the way her cunt is wrecked, the way her asshole is still slightly gaping open from the plug left in her for hours.

I can’t resist.

Leaning in, I drag my tongue over her virgin hole, lapping at her slowly, savoring the taste of her.

Fuck. As sweet as she looks.

I can’t get enough. My hands grip her hips, holding her in place as I spread her with my thumbs.

And I devour her like a snack, my tongue working her until she’s squirming against the ropes, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

But my tongue spears deeper, greedy, relentless, fucking into her.

Her hips roll back instinctively, seeking more even in sleep.

Good girl.

She moans. A soft, broken sound, but it sends a jolt of heat straight to my cock, a bead of precum dripping onto the mattress.

“Does it feel good when Daddy eats your ass, baby?”

She’s too far gone to answer, but her hips twitch, her body responding even as her mind clings to sleep.

My fingers slide across her upturned pussy slit, rubbing her oversensitive clit until she whines. She’s so wet. So pliant.

I spit against her hole, watching the saliva drip down before working my thumb inside, stretching her. She’s still so tight, her body resisting even after everything I’ve done to her.

Fuck .

I grind my cock between her ass cheeks, the swollen, pierced head catching on her entrance, but she’s not ready. Not yet.

“Damn, sweetheart, we need to open you up some more.”

I grab another rope, flipping her onto her back, her arms trapped beneath her.

This one I loop around her hips, then up her torso, crisscrossing over her ribs in intricate lacing, pulling tight until her tits bulge between the binds of chest harness.

She whines, her back arching, but I don’t stop. Not until she’s perfect.

Then I lift her. She’s light in my arms, her body limp like a doll as I carry her to the dungeon.

The chains rattle as I hook her ropes to the ceiling, suspending her just enough that her toes barely brush the ground.

Her head lolls forward, long, pink hair cascading over her face as I step back to admire my work.

But she’s not done yet.

The last length of rope I slither between her legs, threading it through her pussy slit, pulling it taunt, so fucking tight until she jerks. A sharp cry tears from her throat as the rough fibers bite into her clit. Her eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find mine.

“There you are,” I murmur, stroking her hip as she whimpers. “Now you’re awake.”

Then comes the final touch.

I step to the table and grab the anal hook. She shakes her head violently in protest, like I’d care.

After lubing it and warming it in my palm, I approach her back with the wicked smirk playing on my lips.

“This is going to hurt,” I whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth as I pressing the hook against her clenching asshole.

She jerks when I push it in, her body arching, a broken cry tearing from her throat as the metal ball stretches her wider than the plug ever did.

The moment it’s seated inside her, I connect it to the crotch rope between her legs, yanking it secure. It pulls tighter with every movement, rubbing against her hypersensitive flesh, the hook dragging deeper with every shift of her weight.

She sobs, scrambling for balance as the ropes dig into her flushed skin.

And I exhale with relief, finally being able to admire her in a way I’ve been aching to since the first time I saw her.

“Gorgeous. Now, let’s play a game and see how long you last,” I propose, taking a seat on a chair by the wall as I stroke myself slowly, watching her struggle. “You cum, I punish you.”