Razing Grace: Razing Grace Part 1 (8 page)

Nodding her head, she whips her hand up to my arm. “Wait!”

I pause, looking down at her tiny hand before looking into her eyes. “What?”

“What’s going to happen to me?” Her voice doesn’t hold fear; it holds curiosity.

I pause. “Isn’t it obvious?” I answer. “You’re going to the highest bidder.”

MILLIE

His back turns as he walks away towards the dark shadows which he came from. He jumps off the stage with a thump, and I look to the left, for the first time noticing the silver pole stabbed into the stage. I raise my hand up to shade my eyes because I can’t see a damn thing, and the song Dark Times by The Weeknd begins playing through the speakers followed by a round of dark chuckles that ricochet around the deathly atmosphere.

“It’s playtime, nun. Dance.”

I’ve begun to learn who owns that domineering voice. “What?” I glance to the side before looking back to where the voices are coming from.

“Don’t make me ask you twice, pet,” he begins, his voice coming closer. I look down to the edge of the stage to find his trademark shiny mask glowing like a beacon of extreme evil. “I’d fuck with you so bad that you’ll be more than begging me to lodge my dick deep inside your pussy. Now, dance,” he repeats.

Aside from the fact that what he said was crass and inappropriate, I’m upset that once again my body has decided to take its own path. I’m forced to drop to my knees and play slave to these men, all for a reason I don’t even know.

My shoulders slouch as I clutch onto the cold steel pole. Looking out at the dark empty nothingness, my jaw tenses from nerves and the song hits replay. I halt just as the music cuts and the spotlight shuts down suddenly. My breathing kicks up a notch. Searching around the dark room desperately, a cold chill trickles down my spine. There’s a hauntingly erotic feel whisking through the air. Before I can study it or dance in it, something soft brushes over my bare arm and goosebumps shimmy all over my skin.

I whip around to where it came from. “What’re you doing?”

A hand grips around my wrist, pulling my body into a set of bare, rock-hard abs and chest muscles.

“You’re going to wanna put more effort into this show, darlin’.”

I swallow. “Tripp?”

His chest shakes from his laughter. “Nah, babe.” He grips around the back of my neck, jarring any movement. Before I can ask who he is, soft lips brush against mine. I slam my lips closed and his grasp on my neck intensifies. “Open,” he growls against my mouth. “Now.”

My lips slowly part. His tongue slips into my mouth roughly as he slips a little pill down the back of my throat. I swallow whatever it was. “What was that?”

The spotlight turns on suddenly and I find myself in the middle of all six men, all wearing different styles of pants or jeans and all with their trademark masks.

My heart rate pounds against my stiff chest as I back up slowly, only to collide with Blue Mask, or Viking. His hair is tied in a bun to the back of his head, his colossal-sized shoulders square.

I spin around and my head whips to all of the men watching me closely, waiting for my next move. Just as I’m about to make a run for it, my flesh spikes to unhealthy levels, my nipples press against the rough lace of my bra, and a deep throbbing begins between my thighs. Oh no. I look over the hard marbled floor, trying to gather my thoughts, but they all end in a scrambled sex-induced mess. My thighs clench together as a foreign need to be touched overwhelms me immensely. I’m screwed.

“Wha-what did you give me?” I ask, my hand rubbing against my forehead as a bead of sweat drips from my temple and slides between my breasts.

Tripp steps towards me, his hand coming out to find mine, and he pulls my body into his forcefully. “A little help with your stage fright.” His fingertips trail down my arm as his cold mask comes to my ear. “Now… dance, pet.”

They all disappear off the stage. A tingling sensation begins to hum over me as every tight nerve ending in my body loosens. My eyes become lazy and my body begins to sway from left to right. When the song replays, my eyes shut and I sway my hips side to side, imagining something is in between my legs. The feeling is freeing, euphoric, yet so wrong, but I can’t do anything about it. I have completely let go of the reins I held onto throughout my life. A big part of me just doesn’t care anymore and a major part of me knows I am going to die. There’s no way I can come back from this alive, and even if I did, who says I would want to live another day? My faith anchored me, and without it, I would float to the surface, but once I reach that surface, who’s to say that I’d want to swim? I might want to drown.

My body loses itself in the flow of the rhythm, swaying my head to the beat as a light sheen of sweat glistens over my body. I run my hands down my inner thighs slowly as the buzz I’m experiencing kicks into overdrive. I roll my eyes back, tilt my head, and a light moan slips from my mouth all while my body continues to move to the seductive tunes of the song. Walking towards the end of the makeshift stage, I jump down the same way I saw Tripp drop down. In the dark shadows, I can see the outline of all of them sitting on seats, all spread out easily. I go to the first one I see, not caring who it is, not caring about much of anything, not even survival. I straddle his hips and drop low onto his crotch, circling my hips into him slowly to the beat. Hooking my hands around the back of his neck, I swing my hair and arch my back so my body presses into his, my nipples dancing across his bare chest. Reaching down to the ties on my corset, I whip them off slowly until the air I had been struggling to suck in darts down my airways. His hands slide up my thighs and it’s then when the spotlight beams brighter that I see the outline of his mask. Tripp.

In my careless thoughts, I drop my head down to his ear, inhaling his sweet musky man scent. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t get me wet without drugging me?”

The grip around my thighs tightens, and in one swift movement he picks me up and drops me onto the stage. My back hits the cold marble again and a deep giggle escapes me as my back arches. Something needs to be touched. I need to be touched.

I hear someone curse in the background. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tripp. She’s fucking responsive on this shit, man.”

“What’d you give her?” Tripp asks, unfazed and scanning my body, inch by inch.

“X, man. Never seen a chick light up like this, though.”

“It’s because it’s her first time.” Tripp’s hands glide skillfully up my inner thighs until his body is propped over mine.

I tilt my head and smirk. “I bet you’re real pretty.” I laugh—no, giggle—in the most unattractive way possible.

He slams his hand down over my lips and narrows his eyes. “I’m a lot of things, pet, but pretty ain’t one of them.”

I smirk, my cheeks pressing against his rough grip. Drawing my tongue out, I lick the palm of his hand. Each muscle in his body tenses. I look into his bleak eyes that hold fire and evil. Blurry shadows dance over my vision and his head tilts to study me. His hardness presses against my clit and I groan, closing my eyes.

“Make it go away,” I breathe, my hands beginning to shake at the foreign feeling.

He pauses, and I peek up at him from under my heavy lids. Circling his groin into me, I let out a breathy moan, my hands finding the back of his neck.

“Fuck,” he whispers before circling again.

“That, keep doing that…” I rasp out, my breath catching from the pleasure.

Tingles dance over my clit and my core contracts. I burst into flames and heat flushes through me in warm waves, my body jerking from the aftershocks. Coming down from my orgasm, I thought it would put my neediness to sleep; it didn’t.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, slowly pushing me away and stepping back.

I prop up onto my elbows as he sinks deeper into the shadows. Confused, I look toward the left, only to find Joker walking in with chains hurled in his arms.

Swallowing, I point to what he’s holding. “What’s that?”

“This?” I can hear the menace in his tone.

I shake my head. “You don’t…”

“Shut up,” Viking says, pulling me up by my elbow. “You see that booth over there, the one with the red light beeping on the top of the mirrored glass?”

Nodding, I answer, “Yes.”

“Kurr and the priest are sitting behind that glass, Millie. Do you know what that means?” He reaches out and takes the heavy chains off Joker.

“What?” I whisper.

He steps up to me, taking my wrists in his hands and pulling them up above my head. “That means we can’t hold back.” The heavy chains pull, binding my wrists together and he pushes me back down to my knees. “In other words…” he says, snapping my underwear off. Joker laughs, walking towards us with a whip-like stick clutched in his hand. “You’re in for a long night.”

MILLIE

A thousand bruises press into my skin as my eyes slowly crack open, finding myself once again on the cold concrete floor I have become accustomed to.

The cell door squeaks open and I lift my head off the blue blanket.

“Up.” Viking comes over to where I am and squeezes my arm to help me to my feet.

I flinch away from him, standing on my own. “I don’t need your help.” My voice is unrecognizably dead. A wire that was once live inside of me has now short-circuited and I know automatically that there will be no coming back from where I am now. I feel nothing.

He laughs, stepping back. “Suits me.”

I walk past him towards the door and throw my head over my bruised shoulders. “You going to lead the way?”

He follows behind and steps in front of me, my body flinching as memories from last night bombard my brain. He slams the cell door closed, all while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Move.”

Running my hands up and down my bare arms, I follow him down the dark damp hallway before coming to the stairs. Following him closely, he leads me up the stairs, out the front door, and over to the building that sits beside the house and dungeon. Taking my arm, he continues to lead me towards a door and heavy metal stairs that go down to the podium and the booths. Sick little setup this place has. Once we hit the bottom of the stairs, he steps through a back door that leads down a long narrow hallway. He pauses at the entryway to the stage we were on last night, memories of what happened flashing through my brain. I feel nothing.

Handing me a fresh set of wings, he turns my body towards a side room and shoves me inside. Pointing to the chair, he says, “Get dressed. You have ten minutes.” He stands there, his arms crossed in front of him.

I stare blankly. “Can you get out?”

I cringe at how easy it is for me to give him lip. Maybe this is who I was all along and the nun in me was just masking my true self. Melissa did always say that. Melissa. A ball of pain forms in my throat at the thought of my crazy sister. No, I can’t think of her. If I think about Melissa, I’ll lose it. Moving past my cold dead feelings, I squash what ones I have left, the ones that were reserved for my sister, and push my shoulders back, snatching the clothes off the chair. The door opens and then closes. Viking whips his head towards the sound, his shoulders slumping as he curses out a sigh of relief.

“Get out. I’ll take it from here,” Tripp orders, walking towards me.

Viking looks at me one last time and winks before pushing off the door. “Good luck, nun.” I fight the urge to flip him off. I’m as good as dead anyway and I’ve lost the will to survive.

Tripp takes Viking’s place and leans on the door frame, his massive arms crossing in front of his tight chest. “Hurry up.”

My eyes falter as I pick up the clothes again and fluff them out in front of me. I look back up to Tripp and lock my eyes onto his until I want to crawl inside of a hole and never return. Slipping off the clothes from last night, I let them drop to my ankles and his eyes break away from mine, running all over my body. Every inch of his gaze violates me on all levels, levels that not even the last seven days of the other guys touching me could compare to. My jaw clenches as I squeeze the tight little strapless dress up my body.

When I slip into the heels that were with them, I walk towards Tripp, maintaining our stare down. Once my chest is flush against his stomach—because that’s where I reach him, even with 4-inch heels on—I tilt my head. “If I ever get the chance to live a free life again, I swear on all the holy crosses I have ever prayed on that I will find you, and I will kill you. If it’s the last fucking thing I do.”