by Sofia Daniel
“Willow,” he growled.
I leaned forward and, with one swipe of my tongue, licked the glistening fluid off his cock-head. Sebastian hissed through his teeth. I swirled my tongue against his hot, throbbing flesh, enjoying the whimper that reverberated in the back of his throat.
Leopold moved his tongue from side to side, the new movement sending sparks of intense pleasure up my insides and making me gasp. My eyes watered. How could I focus with Leopold’s tongue licking me to distraction?
I opened my mouth wider and let Sebastian slide his member in and out of my mouth.
“Yes,” Sebastian crooned. “Relax your jaw and take it all in.” His tip hit the roof of my mouth.
I adjusted the angle of my head so he could glide down to the back of my throat.
Threading his fingers through the back of my hair, he slid in and out of my mouth at a steady rhythm. As he withdrew, I lashed my tongue on the underside of his penis, making him shudder.
I curled my hands around his gorgeous, hard ass and enjoyed the feel of his muscles clenching with each thrust.
Leopold flicked his tongue over my swollen clit, and a muffled moan resounded in the back of my throat.
Sebastian groaned. “Do that again.”
I moaned louder, my lips vibrating around his erection, and Sebastian threw back his head. With a groan, his organ swelled, then pulsed. Warm fluid filled the back of my throat, and I gulped it down, making a mental note to pull back the next time, so I could get a chance for a proper taste.
Sebastian withdrew, his eyes so dilated, they were mostly black with a tiny ring of green. He leaned down, pressed his lips on mine, and delved his tongue into my mouth in several devouring strokes. Maybe he liked the taste of himself because his groans grew louder the more he kissed.
Leopold’s flicks grew in intensity, and the pleasure sparking from my clit became lightning bolts. At first, it felt like my bladder would empty all over his face, but my core muscles clamped so hard, they made my thighs encase his head like a vise.
With one particularly hard flick, a wave of pleasure crashed through my insides, making my entire body shudder with violent spasms. Every nerve ending screamed with the intensity of my climax, and I collapsed onto Sebastian’s belly, crying out my release.
Leopold’s tongue fluttered around my clit, prolonging the orgasm, and I clenched my teeth, breathing hard through the sensations.
His tongue slowed to a stop, and panic exploded in my heart. For a moment, I thought Leopold had passed out, but he squeezed my hips, and I lifted myself off his face.
Sweat darkened his blond hair, and red blotches covered his cheeks. He stared up at me with unfocused, aquamarine eyes, looking like he’d fought ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer.
Guilt squeezed at my heart. I knew it had been a bad idea to sit on his face.
“W-Wills!” Leopold said between labored breaths.
Chest tightening, I let Sebastian help me off the mattress. “What?”
He gripped his angry, red penis. It oozed so much precum, it reminded me of a dribbling candle. “Come here and smother me with your tits.”
Snickering, Sebastian helped me off the bed. “You’d better do what he says before he implodes.”
I leaned over Leopold, braced my arms on the mattress, and lowered my bare breasts onto his still-flushed face. Both eyes crossed, but then he turned his head to kiss the left nipple, and then the right.
Then he gave me a sharp nod. “Bring them down over my nose and mouth, so I can’t breathe.”
Rolling my eyes, I lowered myself further and held onto the sides of my breasts. Fortunately, I faced the direction of his flushed prick and not his eyes, but I imagined they widened comically from the muffled sounds of faux outrage.
Hot breaths puffed against my bare breasts as Leopold’s fist pumped that furious, red length with an urgency that made my brows rise. He twisted his grip around the head and moaned into my mounds.
A second later, he spurted thick, white streams of semen over his rumpled shirt and green, striped tie. His fist pulsed over the tip, making tiny up and down movements as he milked himself dry.
I was about to edge forward and steal a taste, when a male voice bellowed outside the door, “Help me!”
Sebastian pulled up his pants, sprinted to the door, and stepped out into the hallway.
With a gasp, I raced to the bathroom door, pulled Leopold’s dressing gown off the peg, and shoved it on my half-naked self. Tying up the belt, I rushed after Sebastian with Leopold on my heels.
One of the Riley twins ran down the hallway, screaming. A few of the other boys tried to hold onto him to ask what was wrong, but he broke out from their grips and continued running.
My throat dried. “Where’s his twin?”
Sebastian turned around. “Stay here while Leo and I check their room.”
I glanced at the twin, who had been tackled to the ground by four boys from the football team. Then I watched my boyfriends walk down the other side of the hallway toward an open door.
Fear rippled through my insides as I thought about Prakash’s plight. I didn’t want anyone to blame Leopold and Sebastian for whatever had spooked the twin, so I followed after them.
A crowd of boys stood in a clothes-strewn room around two figures.
Bruce Wilmington lay on the floor in his boxers, his glassy eyes staring sightlessly, and his muscled chest unmoving. Next to him lay the other twin, covered in a tee-shirt, but in the same, wretched condition.
“Does anyone know first aid?” I whispered.
One of the boys I recognized from the scholars’ program rushed out of the room. “I’ll see if I can find Dr. Forrester.”
Sebastian roared at the other onlookers, “Someone call a fucking ambulance.”
I backed away, clutching at my frantic heart. By the time the paramedics arrived from Carlisle, it would be too late. If Dr. Wilmington didn’t materialize with a shot of adrenaline and a defibrillator, these boys would have no chance.
Chapter 7
The next morning we sat in the dining room at the royal table, Leopold on my left, Sebastian on my right. My mind kept drifting back to the events of the day before when the police and paramedics cleared the entire fourth floor and wouldn’t let anyone return for three hours. Nobody knew the fate of Bruce Wilmington and Jarret, the younger of the Riley twins.
A silence stretched out across the vast space, and people occupied every seat, including the head table. Academy staff I had never encountered before, from groundskeepers to cleaners, to administrators, lined the walls.
Leopold and Sebastian gripped my hands under the table. Neither of us had particularly liked Bruce or the twins, but what we had seen yesterday had been raw. Brutal. Barrett, the other twin’s gut-wrenching cries at the plight of his brother, had scratched a groove in my soul that would remain forever.
When the last of the students settled in their seats, and Mr. Blunt closed the double doors to the dining room, Mrs. Benazir stood.
“Members of staff, students, and associates of Brittas Academy.” She cleared her throat and clutched a stack of index cards. “It is my sad duty to inform you of the deaths of two promising students.”
Quiet chatter spread across the room, presumably from those who hadn’t yet heard the rumor.
The headmistress paused until the room went silent. “Bruce Wilmington was the captain of our illustrious football team, a generous young man who mentored younger students in his sport, and one who had a promising international career. He leaves behind parents and a younger brother.”
I swallowed back a lump in my throat and pushed away images of him and his knights, tormenting a broken, naked Ashley in the snow. Now wasn’t the time to think ill of the dead. Bruce would never reach the age of eighteen, never live out his dreams. Ashley, on the other hand, had a whole lifetime to recover from her ordeal.
“Jarret Riley played football with equal skill and passion. Also, a leader, he ran a film-
making club where he encouraged younger students to create art with their smartphones. He leaves behind his father and twin brother.”
My gaze caught Cormac’s, whose face was the color of diluted milk. Perhaps he was reliving the aftermath of Corrine’s death. Had Mrs. Benazir made a similar speech?
The door creaked open, but I was too busy looking at Cormac to turn around and look at the latecomer.
He broke eye contact and fixed his gaze on the table. Geraldine sat at his side with both arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Mrs. Benazir continued. “Drugs, no matter the classification, are a danger to all students, regardless of age or grade average. They provide a false sense of support and security, but create a cycle of addiction where students cannot function without their consumption.”
“Bullshit,” whispered a voice several tables away.
I turned around to find Barrett, the surviving Riley twin, sitting among some of the boys I’d fought at Ashley’s pigging.
Mrs. Benazir turned over her index card. “In times of need, please turn away from the temptation of drugs and turn to faculty members for academic and emotional support.”
My muscles tensed, and angry heat surged through my veins. How many times had I approached the headmistress, only to have my concerns dismissed? With all the money she made from tuition fees, she could have invested in counselors to take better care of the students, but she only cared about profits. Her lack of investment in discipline had caused this mess, as had the pressure put on students to perform.
“Bullshit!” Barrett shot out from his seat.
Mrs. Benazir’s face dropped. “Mr. Riley, I understand—”
“This place is bullshit.” He stormed through the dining room and stopped about ten feet away from the head table. “Where was Dr. Forrester? Or any of the teachers? If someone did first aid on my brother, he might have been alive.”
Glancing at the doctor, who shrank in his seat, I nodded. Barrett was one-hundred percent right. The ambulance had taken an eternity to arrive. Instead of doubling up the doctor’s role as a primary health giver and teaching staff, the headmistress could have employed a nurse or a paramedic on permanent staff.
Mrs. Benazir squared her shoulders and fixed Barrett with a stern gaze. “Your brother and Mr. Wilmington died of an overdose. They were at fault—”
“We were smoking weed from a hookah, for fuck’s sake! No one overdoses on cannabis. Something got mixed in our stash.”
All the blood drained from my face and joined my plummeting stomach. There was only one person I knew who had a significant enough grievance against the knights, access to their rooms, and access to class A drugs.
Ashley.
What if she had tampered with their drugs during her time as a maid? Just as she had poisoned me with antidepressants and beta-blockers?
My throat dried, and the pulse between my ears drowned out Barrett’s rants. I released the kings’ hands, rested my elbows on the table, and clutched at my temples. Ashley hadn’t shown an ounce of resentment toward the knights. Was she capable of putting something in their drugs?
“Willow.” Sebastian leaned into my side. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I exhaled several shuddering breaths. After her pigging, Ashley had emerged from her room, looking composed. She had denied the sexual assault had ever taken place and told the police I had Crying Wolf syndrome.
Leopold placed a hand on my arm. “Willow?”
My breaths became rapid and shallow and loud. In the time we had spent waiting for the police, Ashley must have already devised a plan to avenge herself. Reporting their crime would only give the police a reason why she might want to lash out at the boys on a later date.
I blinked away the fog and gave the boys what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Mrs. Benazir glanced at the seat on her left, the one previously occupied by Miss Claymore. Without the deputy headmistress around to cover up her lack of interest in the students, her cluelessness was laid bare for everyone to see.
Some of the staff members shot her hateful glares, and when no one spoke in her defense, she said, “Mr. Riley. I appreciate—”
Barrett’s face turned purple. “Someone in your school killed my brother and my best friend, and that’s all you have to say?”
The sounds of smartphone cameras filled the air. Either some of the vultures sitting at the table wanted to make memes, or they intended to record Mrs. Benazir’s blasé attitude toward a potential murder.
“Take up the matter with the police,” she said.
“Oh, I will, and I know exactly who poisoned them.”
Gearldine shot out of her seat, jostling Cormac as she stood. “We’re probably more cut up about the loss of Bruce and your twin than you.” She placed her clasped hands on her chest. “Please, tell us who you think is the murderer.”
Barrett whirled around and pointed at me. “Her.”
A bolt of shock shot through my heart, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.
The scrape of Sebastian and Leopold’s seats cut through the silence.
Sebastian stalked toward Barrett, his back and shoulders expanding with every step. “What. Did. You. Say?”
I clapped a hand over my mouth. I’d never heard Sebastian sound so cold-blooded.
Leopold placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. The strength of his touch was the only thing keeping me from falling face-first onto the table.
Barrett stared at his feet. “Not Pigsty, exactly.”
“Willow! Her name is Willow. Or Evergreen,” Sebastian snarled.
Barrett jumped. “I-it was Ashley.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “She came up to us a few days before the end of term in a maid’s uniform and said she knew Bruce was dealing drugs.”
“What?” Mrs. Benazir screeched.
“Shhh!” someone hissed.
Painful spasms clutched at my empty stomach, and I breathed hard to stop myself from throwing up acid. Barrett’s story sounded so similar to Ashley’s attempt to blackmail Prakash with information about Corrine’s death.
The auburn-haired boy’s arms and shoulders shook. “Ashley said her friend could supply us with stronger gear than the crap we smoked in the hookah. All the stuff that could guarantee a good income stream like heroin and crack, but she wanted a cut.”
A few gasps sounded from around the dining hall, accompanied by whispers, but those people were soon shushed, and silence resumed.
“Keep talking,” said Sebastian.
Barrett licked his lips. “Bruce told her to go screw off. Then Ashley threatened to tell the police everything about what happened.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jarrett and I weren’t involved in any of this.”
I leaned forward and gulped. Was he talking about the pigging or something else?
Sebastian folded his arms across her chest. “What did she want to tell the police?”
“What Bruce tricked her into doing before she got pigged.” His voice went so quiet, I had to strain to hear his words. “He said she had to shag s-s-some other b-b-boys. You know, to prove her love.”
“Did she say yes?” Sebastian asked.
“Of course.” He raised a shoulder. “You know Ashley.”
I clenched my teeth, wondering if Barrett was just saying that to protect himself.
Leopold leaned into my side and whispered into my ear, “Wills, if you need to leave—”
“I have to hear all of it,” I whispered back.
Sebastian also shot me a worried glance, but I sat straighter in my seat and smoothed out my expression. It wasn’t as if I thought of Ashley as a sister. The pain gnawing at me was the same kind of anguish I would feel about any woman in a situation where she was coerced to have sex.
Everyone in the dining room, the staff, the students, and myself, stared at Barrett, waiting for him to elaborate. The boy lowered his head, letting strands of auburn hair cover his flushed face.
My hand dropped to the
base of my neck. Half of me wanted him left alone and sent home to grieve with his family, but the other half burned with the desire to know what Barrett, his twin, and Bruce Wilmington had done to Ashley to make her enact such murderous revenge.
Also, how did she know the boys who hurt her would smoke the altered cannabis? Or did she poison the batch, knowing that someone would overdose, and the boys would get into trouble? I scrubbed my hand over my eyes. This situation was getting more sinister by the second.
“Mr. Riley,” said Mrs. Benazir in an unusually authoritative voice. “Are you saying that the other Miss Evergreen consented to sexual relations with multiple boys?”
Barrett shook his head. “Well, I think she thought there would be two boys, but Bruce brought six. I never touched her, not even once!”
Liar. That evening, he and his brother had held Ashley’s chin so she could look Bruce straight into his gloating face.
“She wasn’t happy about it, but she said yes.” Barrett gulped. “Then after that lot had finished, they put all that crap on her, took her out in the snow, and…” He turned to Sebastian and shrugged. “You saw the rest.”
I turned my gaze to Mrs. Benazir, who stood frozen behind the head table with her hand over her mouth. Tears spilled down her cheeks. A few other teachers bowed their heads.
Maybe they were finally getting the message to take bullying seriously.
My spine slumped, and I blinked away a tear. Who it was for, I couldn’t tell. But this time, it wouldn’t be like Corrine’s death, which was initially written off as suicide. Bruce and Jarrett didn’t come from foster care. They had parents wealthy enough to pay the academy’s exorbitant fees and wealthy enough to create a huge, legal stink.
I ran a hand through my hair. Maybe it was callous of me to think this, but Ashley’s retaliation against the bullies might trigger some serious reform.
Sebastian stalked a few steps closer to a cringing Barrett. “Tell everyone what you and your friends did to Ashley Evergreen out in the snow.”
The auburn-haired boy told a story that taxed my strength and made me slide further into my seat. After the boys had finished with her, Bruce fastened a collar around her neck. Then he paraded her naked through the hallways of the east wing, encouraging boys to humiliate her further.
